


Lived By The Boy Who Lived

by MadFantasy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Digital Art, Gen, M/M, Male Hermione Granger, Multi, Sketches, Visual Novel, snarry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:30:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadFantasy/pseuds/MadFantasy
Summary: The time for repayment has come.





	1. Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his characters with their world belong to their author; J. K Rowling. I own nothing but my fan art/fiction.  
> Please mind that English is not my first language, and I appreciate any assistance.

**Chapter 1: Inside Out**

 

 

>   
>  _"_ _As long as hope survive,_  
>  .. _I'll stay alive"_  
>   

On the creaking floor that once nearly witnessed death, a gloomy dim ray slunk befalling on the silhouette of a head. A hollow shell of flesh seen clasped to its boards. Sprawled on the hard wood in a heap of clothes, but perfecting the sight of a sleeping beauty, mangling its meaning of warmth and relaxation to cold mannequin-ed stiffness. Hauntingly still, the man's head luxuriously lay on a crimsoned flat pillow made from his own puddle of blood.  
Dust sprinkled on everything, every furnished piece on the ground was broken, dis-repaired or under debris. Between them, he was a recent intrusion, but just as much discarded as them, he looked like he has been there for centuries. Forgotten unintentionally.

Much to defy the certainty of his perishing, there was a bulb of life hidden deep and parallel to his outer shell of non-existent, sheltered from notice, very  _alive_  in the  _dead_ looking scene.

Nothing he was doing made his heart beat alive and wild, screeching at the world its joy to be hammering against its owner's chest. He was not intending to kill it or wanted to-- either. Maybe he tried, but not truthfully enough- For it wasn't yet dead, dry or withering.. by his  _will_.

Still.   
It was so slow- unnoticeable for the untrained sense of detection. Slow and o so steady, beating with one note, one informative _Morse code_  bearing the only thing he relayed his existence on.

His eyes were opened, looking about him wearily, nothing was fathomable. There were times he almost believed he was staring behind his black eyes, but when he tries to make sure of what he saw; his sight wound forward, back to permit him to detect blurred outlines of things.   
A crippling feel of dull throbs in his dry lips rose. Furiously the throbs elevated blood to its greying colour, it crossed him almost painfully, when he barely comprehended it. So vividly throbbing, as if it's about to prompts his lips to crack open and bleed.

Surely, he was in an extremely bad position. Something had happened, but he could not bring himself to be alarmed as he usually would be. Probably because of the absence of any recent memory to help him recollect himself. His body is so numb, it was mortifying. For him to just register every organ and where it was; the effort of it might have torn him apart with pain. They delayed responding to him that it desperately ached in his very soul, stinging the ends where it connected with his limbs.

Sprang to life, his fingers suddenly answered his repeated demand to move; achieving a miracle. His pale fingers shivered as the colour rushed rapidly back to their tips. The rest of his body followed. One by one each part reacting to the sudden life gouging through and in it, every tip shuddered.   
With them all alert once more, a storm erupted in his head. Buzzing-- shrieking whistles, mistranslated bounding of pain and violent spasms all shot up like fireworks invading his body, ended to explode in his brain. Every nerve raged to inform him where it was aching.

Consumed, head clouded, overloaded with the striking thunders of agony, he couldn't tell what's hurting him anymore. His inner grip to move has snapped loose, the pulsing ache after it was easing gradually, as his effort to hold on ceased.   
He felt his soul return to swim inside him aimlessly, edging nearer to completely drift back to the void of total nothingness.

**⚜•⚜•⚜**

Incantation reached his hearing, reached his conscious even before he identified it with his ears. It had travelled randomly, came vibrating straight to him, like through liquid. It ripped apart the silent emptiness that was engulfing him, by mere sensible force...

" _..Let me rest.._ " He groaned the words in his mind like a sleeper disturbed from his comfort, but his lips did do nothing... To his dismay, there was another reaction to pain, again, attacking him mercilessly. This time,  accompanied by white flashes of light, rippling toward him. So much light it pierced the privacy of his eyelids. It filled him with confusion, sickly overwhelming him. But instead of fading away after few seconds of resistance, it grew hotter-- raising in degree until he felt (at some point) his chest will split open- releasing his insane running heart, fueled with fire. It was as if he was being pulled out forcibly from his state of collapsing.  
It didn't stop there; his throat was clenching, suddenly he couldn't breathe-- the air was escaping his lungs on one straight unbreakable exhale.

...He was screaming.  
Like he never did or knew he could before, but there was no chance to tell if he could, with no vocal sound to come out. Instead, he heard weak crackling squeeze of a voice, small pitiful squeals escaping with the air that was passing his mouth, and when it finally ended, his lungs were emptied, ghastly making him draw a sharp shaky breath. His eyes shot open wide, stung, and started to water.   
Awaken.

Fighting the tears in his eyes; he looked frantically around every corner he can turn his eyes with his inability to move his head. Every blink to clear his vision promising to pull him back to the empty liquidated darkness. His breath racing with his burning heart beats; the world was finally materialising around his physical being. He sensed his head supported, for it was being lifted slightly upward from the freezing ground. He spoke, but his breath got caught in his throat; ragged, uncontrollable and raspy. The hand under his head trembled in response but was firm. He heard its owner's voice shout breathlessly to unseen figures " _H- he's_ ** _alive!_** _He's alive, quick!!_ " The face of the hand was prodded above him, coming to his view.  
His eyes widened in recognition.

He tried to steady his choking breath, trying to say something, nothing came out but a dry squeal, his lips quivered the like of a word, but it went unnoticed. He felt the air drawn into him through unnatural way beside his nose and mouth (now his breath is slowed).. It was slashing the right side of his neck; the cool air swept over his skin entering his throat directly, then hot one blowing back out. A powerful jolt arched his spine up as he received the realisation late, it  **damn hurt** , he squinted to the searing pain. "  _..stay with me. You'll be alright..! please!_  " wavered the voice above him with helplessness, he felt the speaker's warm breath wash over his face, and then.. the world snatched itself back from existing around him.  
Silence ruled again.

**⚜•⚜•⚜**

Three hundred million years had passed just in one blink, it seemed. The long-shorted wait did not have any distractions, such as lucid dreams to falter its steady flow of emptiness. However, it offered what he would have dreamt about anyway. Something he desired so much that his mere need had conjured a possibility by its own accords; a glimpse of what he was sure it was the reality-- flashed in front of his mind's eyes.. Or his own eyes, he couldn't tell the difference. But what made him sure it was real, is the way all of his bodily senses seems to be engaged and present in those real moments, unlike in others he was thinking of or wanting to see, he was surreally detached from them.

For a mysterious reason, maybe after spotting the face-- he wanted to know what's going on outside his head at any cost..

 _...A firm grip on his shoulders._  
_...Panicked hurried sounds, people's and furniture's movements._  
_...He was hovering, his clothes wet and icy cold against his skin and was in the face of a rushing breeze._  
_...Many bony arms plastered underneath his back._  
_...The ground was trying to pull him downwards to its grasp, he 'weighed a ton'._  
_...Feet were dangling from the heavens, robes floating around their ankles._  
_...A reassuring pressing pressure on another living being.._  
_...The sky was glittering back at him then- sprinted sideways._

He closed his eyes, unable to force them open or process anything he was seeing properly. Welcoming warmth drawing into him provided by the chest his head leant on, he heard a heart scattering within it, beating with fright, he would felt it nudging his cheek from how forceful it sounded, he was very familiar with its rhythm.. he pitied it.

Things got fuzzier to be made sense of, now that he can feel the beat in his neck slowing. With it, everything else also played in slow motion-- in his head, only the beat of his own heart was against his ears, deafening him to anything else. It thumped slower, thrillingly terrifying was the silence between the thumps; not hearing the next one until it suddenly sounded for a brief relief.

There's no fighting it anymore, he accepted.  
He's going to die any second now, only.. if he wasn't already..  
Even with the numbing fatigue swallowing him-- he was able to have a fleeting curiosity. He wondered; why his heart sounded like two sets of drums? One was struggling to pulse, and the other beaten steady if not-- too fast.

So loud, it beat. Huffing on the fog of numbness, bringing back the after taste of pain, sharpening his awareness by an ounce a second. He was becoming irritated. The inconsistency of the sounds was unbearable to his liking of the quite and the calm. It was disturbing the illusion that was protecting him from pain. He tried to block the louder beat but to no avail. It was getting higher in volume still. More, he noticed, when the weak beat lowered and went further into the background.. He summoned it back; when he did- the louder beats dropped significantly. He aimed to match the two sounds with one another and he felt, he had the control over the faded one, speeding it to sidled with the fierce one.

" _...Professor! Do you hear me? Professor Snape! Please wake up! We're nearly there!_  
_W- what?_  
**_....NO!_**  
_WAKE UP!_  
_.... SIR!!_  
**_Ajijia!!_** "

So many shouts directed at him, some carrying his name, popping like stars around and in front of his blinded eyes. 'Till the like of an illuminated feel of a hand surged inside him, pushing back his vision, pushing him.. Into himself.

His eyes were opened, but now fluttering in response, glaring weakly at the tremendous noise someone was making near his ear. Strangely he had the urge to silence them, to scold them harshly on their savage treatment as his usual tendency. The face he saw helped reinforce that urge, but with more of a maternal solace.

" _.. Potter_ " he managed to mouth with a little frown. Very aware of his drained state, and of a hand gripping the side of his neck tight enough that, he feels its fast pulse against his slow one. "  _Professor!_ " cried Harry breathlessly, ashen faced and distorted. " _It's all over professor! He's gone- Voldemort is_ ** _gone_** _!_ " The words tumbled out from his lips as he staggered to keep a hold on his neck. Snape blinked, his ragged breath hastened. So many things rushed to surface in his mind, thoughts he didn't or did not have the power to box away, his brain's gears spinning rusty slow. He slowly perceived the possibility of that statement, and what must have taken to achieve it. He was finally impressed; staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. Standing right next to him-- taller than usual. Harry still lives, even with the knowledge that he'll be slaughtered. He rested his eyes shut, his lips twitched into the like of a grimaced half smile, feeling a hint of pride, acknowledging what Harry must have had done- and wondered how he done it, but he was in a panicked state to notice his face.  
At the end of his conclusion, unfortunately; the informal moment of glory was short-lived, a bitter grief clawed suddenly down on everything that preceded it.   
_...There is no need for his life to remain._

**⚜•⚜•⚜**

He was being lowered on a warm surface, Harry's hand still glued to his neck. He was waiting for his hand to be swept away but Madam Pomfrey shakily instructed Harry to keep pressure while she got what she needs to mend him. Snape was uncomfortably aware of Harry's present, so close to him with his warmth, weight and fidgeting movements. He didn't dwell on it very much because soon he was struggling to maintain conscious, he knew the poison must be flowing steadily in him, eating at his inside like lava. Harry's gaze never wavered from his face, his wand was spouting a faint line of curling glow, the end of it connected with Snape.

" _Don't  die... Stay with us.. Please don't let go.. You can't leave... Not like this... I won't let you die.. Not if I can help it_ " he heard Harry's words, chanted in a whisper near his ear. Snape's fingers convulsed on the sheets in shock. He opened his heavy eyelids to direct his eyes to meet Harry's. Harry's gaze was fixed on the hand he placed on Snape but was unfocused, his knuckles pale clasped around the handle of his dark wand, from its tip issuing the glow...  It propitiously  felt like Harry was using his own soul to repel Snape's from seeping out of him. Ramming head first to it, breaking the self-inflicted chains that bonded it from many things– being free to show it for one. Their collision sparked Snape's soul with the raw formless emotions Harry's soul carried;  protection, love, nobility, honesty, forgiveness, remorse, empathy, righteousness and bravery. Charged bravery **roaring**  and rung the loudest, shaking his soul to its core.. he was beyond moved- he was beaming inside. Harry's soul matched exactly the one he gave his life to protect, so long ago. The one soul that taught him,  guided him and did not recoil away from his. It sewed the splint of unwilling deeds he had to perform, right where their souls touched. 

_...how much he would give to feel this way a third time._

The weight of his head sagged to the hand supporting it, making it slung lower down his neck. Enabling him to look up directly into Harry's eyes- but now they were closed.   
Snape's expression was rigid yet relaxed. He gazed defectively around- only Harry was by his side, two figures had their back to him fumbling, assumingly helping the Mediwitch.   
By the looks of it, Harry didn't know he was doing any of it, not even that he was casting a spell on Snape. No one noticed anything– no one even seemed to see the flowing glittering spell smoking out of Harry's wand, or the soft glow it radiated. Which affirmed Snape's theory about what is happening...  He was chanting a preservation charm. 

_..But why?_

Empowered enough; Snape tried to speak up, his wheezing voice wasn't high enough to be heard, and not before a sudden loud commotion happened, making Harry look up, distracted. Snape gritted his teeth painfully, half irritated- half enduring the stabbing pain that was stirred by his attempt to speak. This boy has the poorest forms of attention, he thought angrily. But then he spotted darken shapes moving about, tuned to be his colleagues as they drew nearer, swooping down the row of beds to line up around him. Professor McGonagall was clearest in the lead. When she saw him, she gave a soft cry muffled by her hand " ** _Severus .._**!" Her eyes started to glow but managed to gain control over them. As she drew tentatively nearer, Snape let his eyelids fall lower seemingly shut, everything was getting misshapen to see, but in sincerity, he couldn't withstand to look at her. If he did, he'll have to feel too much. Too much to be moved by while he's trying to hold on to the life thread that keeps thinning. He didn't know why he was holding on so aggressively, her appearance made him feel he wanted to be smothered and die.

The liquidated darkness swirled drawing itself in front of his vision, and something like hands slid tapping the sides of his face, stifling anything passing his ears.   
Harry's hand was the only vibrantly clear sensation he could detect. But now, it was parting with his wound, gently. The cold air resting on his wound after it was gone set his exposed nerves on fire.   
Someone was patting it with something, even more burning. And as they did, the hole in his throat was tightening so much he couldn't breathe. He seemed to forget what part of him he used to breathe. The pressure on his chest build tight enough it parted his lips instinctively to drink a gulp of air. But instead of air, something cold gushed to fill his mouth, was tipped into it by a glass vial that clinked when his teeth bit on it. A thick sliding moistness was sloshing down his throat. He couldn't swallow it, it wouldn't down but stayed in there, having the feel of jelly substance-- not at all blocking his airway. Another douse quickly followed it-- tipped into his mouth.   
This one shot inside him hotly fast, like a shooting fire-bolt in his veins zigzagging in his bodily corridors, filling him whole. Everything was tingling in him for a moment, then... As if someone turned him off in a flick; he felt nothing, heard nothing, seen or thought or knew anything, anymore.

 


	2. Outside & Beside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same disclaimer.  
> Adding a small twist to Hermoine's name- made to Hesmoine. (Hee-smowan)

 

 

 

 

>    _ **"Prophets I've been reading**_  
>  _**Stories I've been told**_  
>  _**Before I end my breathing**_  
>  _**I travel in the soul  "**_

**※※** **※**

Tender quiet fallen on the cryptic atmosphere, like a delicate sheet of silk, covered the measly sounds of agitated withdraws of breath that came from everyone present.

Madam Pomfrey's gliding strides broke it. As faintly as they went, they were returning from having ushered the excess crowd out of the hospital wing. Leaving Harry, Hesmoine, Professor McGonagall and herself remaining. She could see the green-eyed young man tensely observing her, unblinking. The moment she came to a halt back to Harry's bedside, he launched at her.

" _What had happened?_  
_Why isn't he moving?!_  
_What did you give him?!"_  
Harry near shouted-- panic stricken. His eyes pleading for an answer from one face to the other whom stood closing on the bed.

Still holding it; Madam Pomfrey just began screwing down the clog to the very potion that Professor Snape relented to. Analyzing him severely with her eyes that wore a worrisome frown, muttering under her breath. She rested the vial hastily on the bedside table unperturbed by Harry's imploring eyes; Snape's head between his arms as if he was desperate in trying to present him to her. The look he gave her was added to the increasing count of the times she seen it today, on the surrounding recently-emptied beds.

She leaned over them and started to wave her wand in small circular motion across Severus's body. Harry watched her every move expectantly, restraining himself from reacting to every pause she made over his Professor.  
She straightened up finally looking at Harry, her face pale and grim.

" _What_?! "  
Harry blurted loudly, unable to contain himself.  
_"Calm down mister  Potter, it is vital for you to stay quiet.._ '' She instructed gently. Pointing with her eyes to the gray-faced black-haired man Harry clung to " _..for the Professor's sake._ "

She would have told him to get off the bed, to leave his head well prompted by the pillows. But it would only cause a fuss she didn't find it in herself to handle, seeing her Recently Cleared of Charges Colleague on his probable death bed shook her composure.   
In more honesty-- Harry's present was possibly doing Severus some good, by providing warmth or.. last company.  
Her fingers trembled to that thought around the wand she clutched to her chest.   
Tightening her grip, she continued " _I gave him a throat soother so he can breathe and swallow, that one is the antidote for the dark poison_ " she pointed to the oily orange vial on the table behind Harry.  
" _He's still with us.._ " She turned her gaze to McGonagall, addressing her formally " _...Not for long if we don't act now.._ "   
She made a face as if to gain control over a sudden burst that almost got out of her.

" _What can we do more_? " asked Harry urgently, his eyes returning to rake the stiffened Professor for another sign of life, double checking every part of him obsessively. He was calmed a little by the weak rhythmic rising and falling of Snape's heavily buttoned chest.  
Poppy answered his question to her headmistress in a soft voice-- barely stifling what's wanting to show " ...Severus' internal organs are damaged, his nerve system also got singed in some areas and his muscles have signs of dissolving. It's a miracle how his heart wasn't the first to be affected! We may need to move him to St Mongo's.--" " **No!** "

Hesmoine's voice rung hoarse from as if he didn't use it for some time. All eyes shot to his direction, he was sitting on a chair beside the professor's bed, being as small as possible and only his bushy mane stuck up from behind Harry. But now, filling his chair-- shoulders squared-- his face was lit with fear staring at the two women in shock of how they looked to be considering this.

" _Professor- please! You can't!_  
_You can't send him there, how can we yet?!_  
_They'll take him away or maybe mistreat him for being a death eater!_  
_Even before we can prove anything_!  
_And in such a short amount of time!_  
_How can we put our trust in anyone so soon?!_  
_We barely made it here with Professor Snape!_  
_With the Auroras combing the place, we hardly manoeuvred around them!_  
__They are looking for any excuse to blast anyone remotely linked to the death eaters!__  
__We heard them ourselves!__   _ _They looked on the hunt for vengeance, too!__  
_Because of that, we probably harmed him more by moving him so carelessly_ _\--w_ _e didn't mean to of_ course!   
_How?  How you think they would act with Professor Snape if we tried to get him out?!_  
_Maybe--_  he'll die before we can allow us to leave!  
_Maybe_ \--"

Hesmoine kept rambling in a near hysterical manner, trying his best to keep his voice hushed but it kept slipping into a squeal. Harry showed he vigorously agreed by nodding at the end of the sentences Hesmoine spoke to each of the professors. McGonagall raised a hand seeing he wasn't done to silence him, compassionate to let him pick up his breath again.

She can clearly see how the war already took a toll on these children. Beside the physical scars it surely must leave, the damage was deeper than a cut can reach. So young, and already have tasted the bitter grime of betrayal and grew accustomed to the constant suspicion. Not it wasn't needed at a time like this, it was only the frightened look on the youth that had ached her for his sake. But he was right. The time to trust was too soon... For Severus, it was even debatable.

She walked past the Mediwitch and stood over Severus, pained expression wrinkled her face. " _How much longer Poppy?_ " She asked through the fingers clasped to her mouth, observing him the same way Madam Pomfrey did, laying the tips of her fingers carefully on the regrown ragged thick skin that was the bite.

" _Headmistress, I can't tell for certain. At the moment, he's got hardly the blood enough to pump through him and it's not reaching most of his body. I expect we need to replenish it, but with that, we may risk inflaming any traces the dark poison left. It did take its time in his system.. He'll need to have clear it out before we can restore his blood and find a solution to the severe damage to his body..._  " 

She trailed off, seemingly unable to continue. But she gulped forcing her voice steady " _.. he could have no chance of ever waking up, the shortage of blood reaching his heart and brain would cause that..._ " She seemed to have more to say but unable to phrase it. She looked anywhere but at Harry, who was curving his neck uncomfortably just to look at her from his position (half sprawled near Snape).

" _We only got one of two ways for the time being; we regenerate his blood and risk ending him in his weak state by spreading the poisoning further and settling itself like cancer in his body, or wait until we get rid of the poison and by that risk causing him irreversible nerve damage... Either way, the damage will be imprinted upon him... Painful one..._  
_He might..._  
_We could be..._  
_He is ..I ..I think it would be more merciful if we.._." 

Her voice was cracking, tears streamed on her cheeks, unable to hold herself any longer  
". _. Just let him_ ** _go._** " she whispered, Bowing her head and joining her trembling hands in front of her-- surrendering to muffled sobs. 

Harry glared at her sharply, unbelieving. A nerve pulsed visibly on the side of his neck  
Behind him, Hesmoine mirrored his expression with damp cheeks and less ferocity. 

His head shook slowly, clearly choosing his reply carefully. But before either of them begin to slash objections, McGonagall spoke first;

" _Get a grip there, Poppy. Don't get yourself worked up over untimely assumption._ " cutting but soothing, she swiftly marched to her. She reached a hand to pat her shoulder, with the other conjured a handkerchief that snug itself in Poppy's hands.   
" _Look at him, he's well alive. Severus made it this far, and he'll be sure to pull through just as easily as Mr Weasley did. We are prepared for it_ " She ended firmly in a low voice, giving her shoulder a disquieting squeeze.

Madam Pomfrey dipped her eyes regaining some prim self, glancing to each face of them and displaying an apologetic look. 

" _I know you had too much today, heavens knows we all did. We will --prepare --everything In---_ " 

The talk was quelling into fastened shushes as Harry continued to listen, he was looking at their lips moving but he wasn't absorbing what they are saying.

 _" ... if we are missing any necessities, request them with the..." ".. Good, and the whole lot is clearing up by now, we have a clear path to the dungeons.._ "

White rings spun around his head climbing up then descending down along the line of his vision, his head swayed between his shoulders dangerously threatening to fall-- or that how it felt (absurdly, it had him visualizing himself in Sir Nicholas' place and what his head did).

" _... Yes, a couple volunteered alongside the ones I called forth, one of them is going to be a very decent help... " "Not a healer?.. ... Researcher.. " "...I think I've read an article he wrote once..!_ "

Harry's vision was now the one spinning, he fought not to let an expanding bubble of a headache near his right eye blemish his focus on his Professors. The larger portion of his attention pointed to whom lying next to him.

_"...foreign to the wizarding world, and not much of a talker.." "... it will reduce the risk of knowing who he was.." ".. It's perfect Professor. "_

With all his might, he tried hanging on every word that been said. It distracted him from determining the cause of his lightheaded state and why he began to feel so nauseated. He doubted it was the strong damp scent of blood that filled his nostrils-- for it was everywhere on the grounds. And dreadfully to think-- he actually has gotten used to it...

" _.. Create an outside blood circulation.. " "... We can only hope.._ "

" ** _... Harry?"_**  
Hesmoine's hand was patting Harry's knee attentively-- he blinked to each tap he made thinking it was his headache, he realized it quickly and peeked over his shoulder to see Hesmoine scanning his own tightened expression. Hesmoine gave him a questioning look, his eyes darting from Harry's to Professor Snape. 

Harry jammed the back of his hand into his eyes in an effort to focus, massaging the burning soreness away with little success. He spared Hesmoine a watery look then gulped, gasping sharper than he anticipated. Now it dawned on him how fast his heart was beating, replacing the lump in his dry throat. He shook his head in a weary dismissive way to lessen the tension he was sensing through Hesmione's hand.  
_It was nothing to worry about._

He had to be just... dizzy.  All the irregular intakes of air he sucked between his clenched teeth must've done it. He did it on every time he felt the smallest passing twitch -or the like- from his professor's body to him. The momentary lack of them took his breath away then forcefully plummeted it back when another passed. And so, rewinding the process until he reached this state.

He feared to do absolutely anything to relieve himself, Snape's head still nuzzled in his arm, numbing it to a new extension he never felt. He didn't dare to make any movement to adjust it, he almost believed this chance to save him will be snatched away if he gambled with anything more than necessary. That included minimizing the repeated expansion of his breathing chest, solidifying himself to the max.

_"..Then I'll be setting things at the ready."_

Madam Pomfrey concluded in a slightly louder voice, already rushing toward the hospital wing's doors. McGonagall turned to Harry and Hesmoine, determination sharpening her features.

" _We will send for him when we are ready, Mister Potter. No need for you to tribulate yourself any longer. You may leave the Professor, he'll be alright._ _As for you, you look in ghastly need to rest.._."

She remarked. Harry kept rubbing his eyes under his glasses, not indicating that he heard her. She came closer, intending to persuade him to get up. She carefully pulled his shoulder towards her. Harry tensed up at her touch, he looked up at her and shook his head slightly, letting out a small sigh " _No, professor. I am_ ** _fine_** _. I won't leave him"_   He spoke barely above a whisper. He was looking at her softly but clearly showing he won't budge an inch further with her urging hand, his body was firm in its place. 

 Nodding her head acknowledging him, McGonagall sighed defeatedly. She is not able to press the matter much more, time was running out. She excused herself to follow the mediwitch, but not before casting one last glance at them, lingering a bit at their sight. She caught Hesmoine's eye and gave him a meaningful look. 

Harry watched her fondly with blurry glasses, she had ignited some hope between his ribs, it was enough to him that she offered to take a burden off his shoulders.. or arms. He felt astounded to have others by his side again, like feeling it for the first time.   
After a long time struggle of being hunted like fugitives, risky undercover travels and unending fear of imprisonment or traitory. He wondered if she possibly did know Snape's burden was plunged indirectly into his heart, and not as easily as he was merely carrying it physically, is that why she didn't insist as much..?

All he knew, that his feelings are foaming red hot. Raw and new. One thing bubbling over the other, all of them consuming the narrow space in his chest, some of them come to a head then vanish before he processes any of them. This pummeling muscle was beating between them faster to keep holding on, tightly, to his professor. It could have broken to the point of  _dying_ if he let go.   
...Or 'his' would die if Harry let it. One of them will be fatal, at least.

He's not near understanding anything going on in him, but as he always done before, he knew he had to chase down his heart and reason it later, no matter how foolish it seemed.

**※※※**

The doors slammed shut. Deafening silence hushed the echo, magnifying any other voices that were sounding low under recognition. Professor Snape's weak throaty breathing was audible to Harry, now. It made his physique relax a little. He reclined on the bed's headboards longing to close his eyes.   
Few peaceful moments passed, then he heard Hesmione shift in his seat, uncomfortably loud. Harry could tell he was trying to move slowly to stifle the sound. He smiled to himself taking in his presence.   
He wouldn't have dreamt on how to wake Snape and levitate him back here without Hesmoine's extensive knowledge. He appreciated his company however much forced upon him sometimes. It seemed to him that Hesmoine can tell when it is a must to accompany him when wanting to be left alone and when not. If he didn't follow Harry there, if he didn't find him in time... He can't bear to think of what would have happened.

He wanted to thank him but without making it sound cheap... His present by his side is beyond any measure...   
The  _two_  of them are his most...   
The  _two_...?  
...  **Ron**!

His heart stung as he remembered his other friend. His other companion in this crisis.. how could he forgot...  
how ' _dare_ ' he did? 

He tensed up again and unable to toss his head in his direction, he spoke to Hesmoine not facing his way

 " _...you should go and see Ron, Hesmoine. He might be wondering where we have gone off to, by now..._ "

He whispered urgently. Hesmoine made a responsive noise, he could see in his visualization Hesmoine face pause in hesitant then shaking his bushy head with pursed lips

" _...Ron is with his family, Harry.  And you..._ _I'd like you to have some company._ " 

He whispered back. 

When Harry didn't respond, he forsook any attempts to quieten the sounds of his movements and got up. Lifted his chair and settled it on the opposite side of the bed, facing Harry.

He waved his wand in a U shaped movement and a tray materialized from thin air on the bedside table, on it was a couple of sandwiches and chipped mugs of water and Pumpkin juice. He picked the more rounded sandwich and offered it to Harry. Harry grimaced, the smell of food made his stomach flip. 

" _...It's hardly the time, Hesmoine.._ " Frowning at him, he was looking appalled. 

  Hesmoine flushed returning the sandwich to the plate hurriedly "W _ell, you wouldn't get up from his side! You need to eat something Harry, you're absolutely worn out. How else you'll be getting your strength back?!"_ He fussed. 

" I'm sorry Hemsoine, but I can't eat. I don't think I'll stomach it. " 

" _then have some juice at least. Here_ "  

Hesmoine got up, circling the bed with the mug and stood next to Harry.

 " _Alright,_ ** _alright_** _, I'll drink it_ " Harry sighed and made to grab the mug, but Hesmoine raised it up and away from his outstretched hand. 

" _I'll be making sure you drink the whole thing if you please_." Said Hesmoine airly.

 Harry looked at him sheepishly, pink in the face, half smiling and looking he'd back away more than the wall would allow him if he could. Hesmoine drew the mug to his lips, with his other hand supporting Harry's chin. Harry had no choice but to gulp down the sweet juice. It washed away the dry soreness and spread a cool refreshing feeling through him.

Hesmoine smiled contently seeing the instant change in Harry. " ** _See?_** _Already you're starting to gain back your colour._ " He teased. He turned back and settled in his chair, helping himself to the other mug. Harry was smiling weakly at him. Hiding that his stomach was turning threateningly even though it was asking to be fed at the same time.   
" _Thanks for that. But seriously, you should go to Ron and check on him and his_ _...Family._  " 

Harry choked the last word. An addition to his confusion-- they all suddenly came rushing back. The throttling pain of loss, guilt, grief and the sense of foreboding. He averted his eyes quickly to hide them somewhere-- anywhere. But Hesmoine, as predicted of him, knew exactly what was Harry thinking. He didn't give him a chance to wallow in grief in the privacy of his mind, though. He looked determined not to give Harry an opportunity to feel guilty again. 

 _"Oh Harry..."_ He started in a consoling tone. But Harry cut him off " _I just... I want you to see him. Make sure he's-- they're alright. And.._ "

Hesmoine got up in the middle of his sentence, a knowing look on his face. " _...Make sure that he won't barge in here to this?_ "   
He opened his arms to the width of the bed, pointing with his hands at it as if to portray the view.   
Harry looked up-- blushing profusely. He was going to retort but stopped at the sight of Hesmoine's gentle smile. Hesmoine leant over after few seconds and took off his glasses squinting at them.

"  _...I know that's not what you meant, Harry. I know that you're concerned about Ron_ _himself_ ** _and_** _his opinion about Snape; you trying to save him, I mean._  
_You're worried how will he react._ "    
Hesmoine spoke quietly after a moment. He walked slowly to the back of his chair, rubbing the glasses clean while watching Harry's expression cautiously. He smiles gently after seeing Harry's approving nods. 

" _Don't worry Harry. Ron wouldn't want anything less of supporting you --as always-- to save a life._ _"_  
_Be stopped in his tracks, biting on his lower lip, looking regretful_

"... _But I agree. In the meantime, I think we should keep it a secret. He might need longer time to process everything..._  
_under the_ ** _current_** _circumstances_ "

He sniffed. He leaned over again and returned Harry's glasses, patting his cheek reassuringly

 " _You know you caused none of this, Harry. You know that don't you?"_

Harry looked into his begging watery eyes, his cheeks are damp with tears but he was still smiling wide. Mouth shut tight, he held Hesmoine's hand and squeezed it lovingly, returning his gaze with misty eyes. He didn't trust himself to speak. Inside him now was raining with all kind of emotions, one clashing with the other- deforming it.   
But appreciation and thankfulness surfaced on the top for now.

Hesmoine took this as a sign to get going. He straightened up and fastened his cloak tighter. Then he waved his wand- purple glow flushed the tray and it was gone. 

" _...Ron might make use of the sandwiches_ " Harry mused softly, unknowing of what to say. Hesmoine nodded ". _. that's where these are going to._ " He responded absentmindedly, his eyes scanning the professor one last time.

" _I'll be back before you know it_ _, Harry_ " He smiled warmly at Harry before he dashed to the door.  When he reached the ringed knob, he paused in reflection. Raising his wand above his head; he waved it in a wide circle. Golden breeze exploded from its tip. It engulfed everything with sweet-scented warmth. Changing the cool gloomy atmosphere of the hospital wing pleasantly-- for a short while. Harry watched it glitter all the way until it faded completely. His monocles, the orange antidote vial and everything made of glass or crystal still glittered by Hesmoine's charm, as a subtle reminder to his continuance present for Harry. It had been diverting his attention for the milliseconds it lasted, to bypass the faint tug on his cloak from Severus's fingers. 


	3. Outsider

     Night slunk on the castle's walls, dimming the severity of destruction it endured. The moon was grimly shadowed behind thickly clouded weather. Only showing a glimpse of itself to the mass of trees beneath.

Sharp tinkling pain had started; like pencil plucked at the side of his ribs, his position began to falter.  
Can he sigh? He thought he could. He had no choice.  
Only, making it sound like a possibility was letting his stress easier to compress.  
Harry let out a long, monitored breath. Unknotting a nagging cramp in a side of his ribs.. at last.

It hadn't been two full minutes to Hismoine's departure until he became restless again. He knew it shan't take more than five minutes time before seeing the matter of saving the Professor through, but the wait was weighing down on him faster than the ticks can pass in this place. A place seemingly had intensified his awareness to the span of time: an eerie, dark, demolished hospital.

Floating dust grains got flustered by his shivering exhale. Highlighted dully by the line of an intermittently gray light, emerging through the high narrow window behind his recumbent figure. The dust around might have represented agile-snowflakes descending dreamily before him, visualizing an icy cold he felt was settling more announced in the place.  

 

  
It soundlessly wafted through the massive hole in a wall that bore an infliction of damage, seeping through the cracks that laced the surrounding walls. Emitting cloudy, drowsy exhaustion. It suspending things in mid-drift in their place, perfectly still —unmoving with intruding breeze.  
Taking them as the main example; the only two here on a shared bed, Harry and his previous potion's Professor, Snape.

From afar, long flickering shadows stretched to Harry's wandering sight, as he lay there, tensely watchful. There were flaming torches floating around burning hot, but their light or warmth reached them none— being positioned in the furthest bed in a corner for the sake of their protection.  
They were hidden fairly from sight, behind a pale privacy curtain drawn tightly around them. In turn; nothing appeared to them from the rest of the wing. Only through a small gap, a bed against them was some sort of a crumbled view.

Harry stared— spaced out. His eyelids sleepily drooping over his eyes, even though he felt wide awake.  
A glow pounced to his peripheral vision, coming from his professor's chest, alerting Harry to look back.  
The silver moon ray occasionally shone, reflecting faintly on Snape's silky dark cloth, shimmering on its folds like tiny sea waves in a trance with his soft breathing.  
But, Nothing else was moving in him...  
Growing more frustrated by the second, he sighed distastefully to the lack of happenings. Isolation and not knowing: Two things experience had taught him are the least things he can tolerate.

Besides that; there was continuance risk of endangering a Snape's life if he moved or if he didn't in time. From this position— he wasn't likely to be able to defend himself properly, didn't think he had the energy, either. It can go without the need to add that his skin was prickling to the spooky curtain, at any minute it might swing open to reveal behind it an unwanted visitor ...or worst.  
Heightening his sensitive paranoia even more; the cold was chilling his exposed back. It was exactly like back on their travels, being stranded in the middle of the wilderness, with no inhabitation around or a solid safe shelter.  
But conflicting to the wilderness' lively sounds, the air here held a strangely looming serenity. Closing in on him, pressing against him.  
If he didn't know the castle was almost cleared of who usually roamed it, he might have thought his ears weren't working properly.  
Snape slow occurring intakes of breath kept him on track- when they paused the world deemed to stop in utter silence. It strongly made him feel trapped in a sealed sphere separating them from reality.

Harry suddenly felt the same chill that ran down his neck reach him from the hand supporting Snape's head. He was starting to feel like a block of ice next to him.  
Worrying, he placed his the back of his hand on Snape's forehead then cheeks as a measure. It was obvious that he was gradually losing warmth. He could tell from his skin— unnaturally cold and too odd to the touch-- like touching soft rubber.  
He repressed a spring of panic manually by biting his tongue, explaining away his professor's remittent temperature to himself. He was hoping he was just imagining it. He himself is cold to shivering, after all.

Focusing to breathe deeply, he pointed his wand up then whirled it right summoning a discarded blanket. It took few seconds before a shadow came wafting down on him like wings, spread and covered them both.  
As he pulled on them to cover Snape's chest, only then Harry notice his hand loose on an amassed part of his cloak. He snapped his eyes back to his face with anticipation. Hoping wildly, he leaned over more and whispered

" _Professor? Are you awake?_ "

He got no notable response.  
Harry glared, again, not daring to look away in case of missing any living-like sign Snape presented.  
No luck met his eyes yet as it explored his professor, lingering on the small whites of his clothing. The collar of his neck was drenched in crimson red. The blood covers almost all the upper part of his torso, even Snape's smooth silky hair was sticky and tangled between Harry's fingers at the end where his hand supported his neck.  
He wondered if he should try and clean him up, but he didn't think he was well practiced on this kind of spells.

He returned to look down at Snape's face daringly, as if he was risking to be caught staring inappropriately. Running his green eyes on every inch, examining every detail. In a closer, longer focus than he ever managed do before; with Snape's glinting black eyes staring back at him, locking him in a staring contest, trying to feel its way into his 'guilty' mind.

For the time being, Snape's features were blank; his lips weren't curling, pressed tight or repressed in any manner, they seemed fuller than usual. His nose free of the wrinkles of disgust that mounted it and his eyebrows smoothed down, relaxed on his forehead— non-threatening. His face clearly shown, not anymore hidden by the sheets of his hair.  
Generally looking... Boyish. No, innocent. Like how Harry saw him in the section of his childhood's memories.. devoid of the heavy dark aura he was so inclined to. 

 

  
He was so peacefully unmasked; he couldn't identify him for the Snape he knew and disliked... (Or thought he knew and disliked.)  
That knowledge belonged to another Harry. He wasn't himself at the time being and just as unidentified as he found his Professor.

He contemplated the past Harry. The past he would have never dreamt to see Snape this close by means of contact. Located in the same place with the man alone was torture. Spotting him around was always a thrill; of fear or hatred— that is.

He couldn't ever remember to be this protective of him as well.  
He recalled his exposed injured leg that day; how unmoved by the slash on it, compared to the goosebumps that invaded his skin upon seeing the torn flesh of his neck. Dashing to pin his hand on it without a second thought...  
Did he even touch him- in any manner- before this time?

Here was a man under a title of power, abused it playfully, reserving a 'special treatment' just for him and him only.  
By every passing year, he seemed to exist just to torment Harry, without an obvious cause or plea, other than the usual 'like your father' monologue.  
Subtley nudging on his nerves in a bizarre teaching way, that was nasty enough to make him remember, and those lessons were exactly what he needed to learn- oddly enough.. with the downside of learning how to hate him harder.

And yet, this was not the right position to compare that man's past self to his collapsed one.  
He couldn't see it in him, anyway. The person who filled his heart with blinded wrath, preparing him to kill or be killed, was someone else. Almost like another version...

Yes... He can hear a small voice say in his depths. It helped him concentrate on what he wanted, and he wanted Snape to live. To get up. To talk. To prowl around with his darkened cloak.  
To bring back some normalcy after today's...

Harry's lips trembled, his breath accelerated with the sudden squirm his heart did. He tried to calm his shallow breath back to normal, apprehensive about his chest's harsh expandment, but he found it maddeningly hard. He gripped an edge of Snape's cloak, smoothing it down slowly, as a way to release the tension.  
Under it appeared these robes that fluttered once on him, now crusty and heavily stained with blood.

In a forgotten time, they were running away from him, fleeing purposely among a murderously fast symphony of chaos. Things and people alike clambering out of harm's way- as all duelled to kill.

He ran after them with the same calamity that marked the place demolished; heart charging to beat its fastest.  
Forwarding him; those black tailored wings flapped. Sliding behind obstacles, manoeuvring slyly out of Harry's reach. It aggravated Harry to beyond the point of any aggression he reached before. He growled angrily at the back of those billowing robes, easily escaping his grasp like a taunting tail.

It took one day, only one, to flip his world on its hinges, turning all he knows upside down.  
The same wrenching headache of after the chase wasn't caused by rage, now. This time, It was strangling fear...  
The fear of not being able to reach and snatch those flowing robes on the falling man who wears them, not able to get a firm hold before he tumbles to death's frozen embrace..

Not another death...  
Not anymore if he could stop it...  
That's all that he can think of.

He has the miraculous chance to save someone from the many others he couldn't. Whom paid him a heavy sacrifice he did not ask for or (from this specific man) had it ever crossed the wildest of his dreams for it to come...  
He will not DARE to waste it... He had to save him, he been so wronged...  
His conscious.. screaming at him to do it..  
..it's painfully overpowering how unfair... All this...  
Death is a drastic measure of change...

He didn't know he was clutching Snape's robes with a death grip.  
Or that he crumbled to sleep from emotional and physical fatigue.  
Or that Snape's hand was dug in his clothing almost ripping through the fabric.  
Or did he hear clamber of feat getting nearer and nearer...  
He couldn't retrieve that absence. The absent that cost him a chance.

 

※※※

  
As heavy as slow as a feather, Harry was filled with the sensation of hovering over his bed. He could be blown upwards by the easiest nudge, or drawn lower by the smallest tug. Harry felt free, unbound and weightless. Soaring or diving down? He didn't detect that, yet.  
The air around his body was calmingly cool, but for a spot of warmth that was poured on his cheeks. It spread far enough to reach his belly; setting a swarm of butterflies free. He was so tingly comfortable, feeling as if melted out of shape.

A present made itself known to his senses. Few random clung happened, bringing him back to consciousness. They were sounding distant, and quickly they were followed by slapping footsteps, approaching his way.  
They halted next to him, which made Harry open his eyes to see who they were. Instead, seen a white sun, blazing over his face, joyous and merry. Harry blinked away from it few times, but his vision stayed terribly blurry.  
A shock of redness went through the sunshine, ducked sideways then returned, blocking the sun as it did. It was a figure standing in front of him. Handing him something. A smell of cleanliness drifted forward with their outstretched hand. Harry reacted slowly matching their gesture like he was in a dream-like state. He found he was holding his glasses. He put them on feebly, his right arm heavier than the other.  
Ron's tall dangling body came into view over him.

Harry snapped awake at once, his heart skipped a beat. He froze there, taking in the sight of his friend, which was squeezing him with both glee and sorrow.  
Ron looked out of it, his clothing was loosely fastened on him and more than usually miss-matched; like he was hardly noticing what he was wearing. (seeing on him that maroon jumper he hated). His face drooping a bit but gave Harry a sort of a smiling look, he felt it rather than seen it, because his facial muscles were painfully stiff.  
Before he knew it, Harry was on his feet facing him, wavering a bit. Ron movements look as if they were pulled out of him, shifting forcefully from one foot to the other, his hands dangling against his sides, throwing grief-filled looks at Harry while his head was bowed, and gulping quite more than normal.

Harry stared at him, doing his mightiest to unlock his jaws to speak, his heart was ramming madly under them in his throat, sealing them tighter. He swallowed hard, hesitated for fraction of a second, then lunged his arms over him, hugging him bitterly. Finally managing to mumble a muffled apology.  
Ron didn't budge for few seconds, but almost too violently, he wrapped his long arms around him, burying his face in his shoulder. Harry gripped him more firmly as he felt the chest against his started to pulse, fast, into the like of short strong coughs, muffled into him and rebounding on his own chest. Ron broke into long squeals of shivery breath, weeping his heart out... 

 

  
It wasn't long until Ron rose to his fullest height, rubbing his nose and sniffing rather loudly, eyes and face as red as his hair.

".. _blimey_ , " he spoke at last in a thick voice. " _... I didn't think... I have it in me to talk..._ "

He kept wiping on his eyes he sat on the chair by the side of Harry's bed " .. _. everyone was .. doing it back there for me, I suppose..._ "  
Harry sat back on his bed, feeling faint and exhausted. Wiping carefully under his glasses by the tip of his shirt.

To their relief, their talk started easily enough; one tired whisper replying to the other, echoing higher to the midst of the ceiling.

_" .. you should have seen his face. I don't know if he lost it or losing in it yet. Mum didn't know if to cry over him or..."_  
_"... I'm sorry.."_  
_"... enough with that already .. you're bumming me out, mate. Stop acting if it was your fault for Merlin.."_

_"... when the funeral will be?..."_  
_" ... we got her out of here just yesterday, not sure yet.."_  
_"... how are you feeling?.."_  
_"... O, I'm fine. Just exhausted... like everyone else_ "

They relaxed in a long comfortable silence. Harry closed his eyes in meditation, allowing his pounding headache to subside.  
But as it did, another feeling clawed it way up to his notice. His stomach clenched and convulsed as if being punched; alarming him!  
Something wasn't right! Something was harrowingly missing! It was starting to make him unreasonably frightened.  
He tried to calm himself, speculate it, but every time he did his mind stopped working, setting him to stare at the black inside of his eyelids, with the struggle of masking his heaves.

Ron was slumped back in his chair, picking on the loose threads in his jumper absentmindedly. His eyes centred on Harry, mildly noticing him.  
Eventually, he recognized the repetitive shudder that runs through him by the flutter of his shaggy hair.

" _... Harry, are you sure you alright?_ "  
Harry didn't respond. Ron straightened forward in his chair and was frowning to focus on the answer he'll receive, he added:  
". _.. Are you cold? Feeling sick?_ "

Harry slowly shook his head. Unable to stop the shivers from showing on his fingers. Ron got up and looked around the bed. He stopped at the sight of seeing what he was looking for and plucked it out, right from under the bed's blankets. He flung up and around- a black cloak, it descended on Harry's shoulders, thick and stiff, to warm him up.  
Harry opened his eyes to the feel of the firm weight on him. He looked at one of Ron's pale hand patting the cloak on his shoulders; at a very darkened spot.

" _Are you feeling any better? Should I call Madam Pomfrey?_ "

He asked, concern wrinkling his knelt-down face. The look that was forming gradually on Harry's face made Ron's flip a greenish hue.  
Staring, wide-eyed, horror-stricken at the cloak his hands tuck him in. 

 

  
Ron clumsily rushed to take it off Harry " _Uh, not yours?! Sorry, lemme just_ "

" _NO_!"

Harry spoke louder then he intended. Making Ron's hands recoil from pulling the cloak off, severely confused.

Harry recollected himself realizing his reaction. He stood up, nervously he tore off the cloak then rolling it in a messy fashion, shoved it under the covers again.

" _Sorry Ron, It- uh.. it's mine, yes._  
_And.. it has blood and might have soil you and stuff.. I-_ "  
Harry explained, stuttering a bit. Before Ron can express the confused look on his face, Harry's knees buckled and down he went facing the unforgiving hard floor.  
But Ron was faster, he caught him. And as gently as he could, half lifted Harry back to bed. He was looking more feverish and disoriented now, still having spasms of shiver.

" _I.. sorry_ " weakly, he forced out few words between pursed lips, fighting inches away not to be sick all over Ron-- Who was looming over him, his hands tightly holding his shoulders, supporting him to sit.

" _I'm definitely calling her, Harry. You're really messed up! You think you can be okay laying down 'till I get back?_ "

Harry made a consent sound, letting Ron steer him back to his pillows, his eyes were closed, now squinted from a sunny spot.

Ron slapping footsteps started and were gone in an instant.  
He got up. Still his head spun, still his stomach lurched, but he almost felt none of that as he speedily looked under his covers.  
There it was, alright. The black cloak stained with stiff blood...  
.. The worst conclusions screamed at him before his logic can proceed.

Mercifully, he was distracted by the doors flinging open. He stuffed it and jumped back to bed, worsening his nausea.

Echoing strides came in, a bushy mane bounced upper the line of curtains and finally, have revealed a running Hismone toward him.

" _Harry_!"  
Hismoine breathed, harshly panting and clutching on his chest. Harry would have launched at him, but his vision swirled flipping the ground up threateningly. Hismone seemed to notice his intention and his sudden dazed glance.

_"Harry don't push yourself so-"_

" _Where is he?!_ "

Harry demanded dangerously- pressing his palm over a pulsing vine in his temple.

" _Is Ron here?_ "

In hesitancy; Hismoine asked, looking around them aimlessly while his hands were reaching to coo Harry.

" _No, he isn't!_ "  
He groaned in desperation, cutting off Hismoine direction and pulling on his hands a bit too eagerly to face him properly.

Hismoine was clearly avoiding Harry's eyes, just like the Mediwitch did, he looked apologetically into Harry's pale sweaty face. It was clear he didn't want to be the one to tell him. Harry stared at him with wide pleading eyes, fear was consuming whatever little color remained in his face. It was stunning for Hismoine to see how affected he was, to a point it made Hismoine freeze into a sort of awed dis-function. But that was momentary, he quickly recovered and as calmly as he could he spoke in a confident voice- yet shook a little.

" _Harry, Harry- he's alright! His condition was stabilized, he's okay!_ "

Harry relaxed his grip enough to let a hand of Hismone's free from his obscenely intense hold.  
He directed it to presume his intention to rub on Harry's back as if to awaken him from whatever condition he was in.  
His face was still deploying that odd half-imploring half- demanding-to- know state. Looking hard into Hismoine empathized expression.

" _.. you're not hiding anything-_ "

" _No Harry, he IS still alive!_ "

" _I need to see him._ "

He started on his sheets, tossing them away but Hismoine withhold him quickly,

" _Harry- please! Please stop! You need to rest, you'll hurt yourself! You're at your limits! Please!--_ "

Hismoine struggled to push Harry to recline while he, too, fought back. Hardly, though. He felt his energy draining quickly, making his hands feel like soggy bread-sticks.  
Hismone grumbled flushing,

" _Harry! don't make me use--_ "

But before either of them get the upper hand on the other; the door's metal clanged as it opened, followed by fast strides of Ron's and behind him Madam Pomfrey in hot pursuit. 

 

  
" _Mister Potter? Is everything alright?_ "

She asked hurriedly even before reaching his bedside. His struggle immediately ceased at the sight of Ron. Hismone jumped suspiciously off him-- tucking his wand out of sight, resulting in Ron taking notice. He couldn't question the matter further as the maiden stirred him out of the way to tend to Harry.

Harry returned to his position, laying on his back, sulky and exhausted more than he realized.  
Hismoine quickly fled the corner not wanting to be trapped in Harry's range of sight.

Madam Pomfrey approached him after drawing the curtains around, eyeing him disapprovingly. She sighed on Harry's unwavering sulk and placed a cool hand on his forehead.

" _I should have examined you earlier..!_  
_..dear dear, you are boiling._ "

She clicked her tongue apologetically, getting out her wand.

As the maiden continued summoning out her brightly colored vials out of thin air, Harry found the sight strangely soothing and started to get difficult to keep his eyes open. But, he stubbornly flashes them wide open every time they closed.

She sighed at his unrelenting attitude, weighing some powdered potion to a small cup.

" _You'll be rid of that fever as soon as I finish restocking those potions. Bear with me, I had to bring my set here... everything I carried was emptied before I could get any more supplies._ "

Harry mumbled " _it's alright.. There are who need it more than I do_ ".

She straightens up, her lips tightly pressed in a thin line and looked over him for few seconds. She then whisked out her wand and waved it back and forth swiftly between her fingers.

Harry felt a stream of liquids start spreading through his skull and down on his face, he spluttered a bit when water poured into his mouth. It continued across his whole body, but as he was looking at his outstretched figure, he could see no trace of water. He rather felt it only on his skin. It spread until it reached his toes then evaporated through his clothing, smelling clean and warm- as if he was freshly out of a steaming shower.

Madam Pumfrey then gave him a pair of the hospital's pyjamas. He turned down Ron's insisting offer to help him dress.

A while later she came through the curtains. Behind her were glimpsed the peering faces of Ron and Hismoine. Carrying a mix of potions he's ordered to consume.

" _I suggest you take this opportunity to relax and  allow your body to recover its strength. It's almost drained  of everything I would say- that include your magic as well_ _, Mister Potter. You have put a lot of strain on them.._ "

But Harry showed more of his sulk and demanding posture.  
Unphased, she handed over a goblet of cloudy swig to his hand. Lowering her voice as she leaned to ruffle his blankets off and on him in a neat manner

" _The castle is being picked clean by the Arouras. The H_ _eadmistress insists that you be asleep the whole time they are here, to spare you any questioning_. "

" _But_ -" " _-You'll know everything when you wake up, Harry. Now please retire to your pillows after this_ "

She retorted, and held a goblet under his nose. He took it reluctantly, and in one go, gulped it down. Instantly, the world lost its focus, before he could hand it back- his body became drowsy, heavy, numb, his eyelids dropped suddenly shut on his unconscious eyes, already on his way, sailing into the deepest sleep he yet to know.

A smoky scent tinkled his nose, thick and heavy it almost choked him for a moment, but then, it became pleasant and welcoming, rich in perfumed aroma.  
Harry breathed deeply, unknowing of his senses taking in the smell in deep, calm and relaxing sniffs.

But at his third inhale, the scent was gone. And Harry's slumber returned like before, peacefully uninterrupted.

He didn't register the arguing voices around him, some getting fiercer in tone and one be irritatingly repetitive. Nor did he noted the light on his eyes dimmed by peering shadows. He slept on and on, in a dreamless calm.

 

※※※

  
Harry awoke suddenly as if there was a timer for his sleep in his head and it dinged, ending his controlled sleep. Strangely so, he didn't feel the side effects of the usual napping, being groggy and all that. He sat up blinking uncertainly, letting his hand automatically grope for his glasses on the bedside table. His hand dipped into a warm slushy substance. Harry saw it was a breakfast tray filled with goodies and soup. Striking him savagely, the hunger announced itself by its growls, painful and grumpy, forced him to begin gulping down the warm rich verity of food.

All along, his head was clearing up to one thought, now buzzing loudly: Snape.

No one was around, and it was fairly dark. He dressed quietly, navigating around his bed carefully.  
He stood up, legs feeling like mush, tipped toed into the curtains and looked between the gap.

No one was there, he was beginning to take off running toward the wooden doors at the end of the walkway.  
The second he stepped out of the curtains, however, he was startled by the mirage of voices that came seemingly out of nowhere.

It was Hismoine, calling him joyously.

" _Harry! You're awake at last!"_

Before he can turn to him, Hismoine hugged him from behind, squeezing him delightedly. 

 

  
Something else was awry; the sun casts its spearing light, stunning his sight. He blinked perplexed, looked down at Hismoine and asked

" _its... morning?_ "

Hismoine nodded, curiously following his gaze to his bed then gasped catching on,

" _Ah! Your corner was darkened for your comfort, of course._

_I asked Madam Pumfrey if she can do something about it, actually.. You were squinting awfully a lot in your sleep. You weren't having nightmares, were you, Harry?"_

Hismoine asked fiddling anxiously with his fingers. Harry was looking a bit dazed, staring still at the black airy sheet of darkness that was pouring over the corner he slept in.

".. _You..watched me sleep?_ "

He trailed off, his sight landing on dozens of golden-ribboned gifts and brightly colored letters, all stacked neatly on each other by the side of his bed.

"From your fans" Hismoine whispered smiling cheerfully, taking note of his awed expression.

" _A-already..?_ "

Harry said thoughtfully, examining one of the letters in an unsure manner.  
He shook his head, waking himself from being overwhelmed by everything.

He turned to Hismoine and held his forearm, pulling him away from curiosity's temptation and spoke earnestly in a rush.

" _That all can wait, for now._  
_Listen, I have to go and see him._ "

Hismoine's genuine smile dropped at once, with a stony glare he looked past Harry's eyes, behind him, ever so subtle he repeatedly bit on his lower lip.

Harry didn't get to react when a long-fingered hand rested on his shoulder, and Ron's voice sounded near his ear.

" _Wanting to see me, Harry? Well, You're in luck._ "

Harry turned to see Ron's tired smile, only his hair was in color, the rest of him was battered shades of grey dressing, matching them his face, that looked paler than ever.

He shook his head on the sad pained expression that slumped on Harry's face, upon realizing what he must have missed.

"Don't beat yourself over it, mate. Attending a funeral wasn't going to be a healthy option for you in your state.

Really happy to see you're back with us again.. "

"... I'm so sorry, Ron.  
How long was I out?-"

" _-Two days._ "

Hismoine chimed quickly, seemingly having a hard time hiding his nervousness.

He was dispensing quick looks to the both of them. Obviously anxious for the moment, either of them starts asking questions.

Harry could tell that Hismoine didn't want to be the bearer of news, and he wasn't going to place him in that position again, anyway. Hismoine has done more than he should..

But he couldn't help but noticed that Hismoine's face was started deepening in the shade of red by the passing second, each time he looked at Ron in fact.

Ron had a glazed stare. His eyes wandering aimlessly on the floor, hands berried in his pockets, completely spaced out.

" _...Hismoine didn't make it, did he, Ron?_ "

Harry asked slowly, perturbed by his guilty expression.

Ron blinked at him regaining focus. He simply shook his head.

" _Someone had to be with you, Harry._  
_You were waking up in odd moments and dropping back like you were fighting sleep or something._  
_Didn't want to hurt yourself._  
_..._  
_Madam_ Pomfrey  _couldn't stay much with all who needed her in the village._ " 

He added thoughtfully.

Harry looked at Hismoine, and he confirmed it by nodding sympathetically.

" _We also had to make sure you were out of sight from whoever came to interrogate you._  
On Professor McGonagall's orders, you see. She couldn't keep the ward of disillusionment on your bed much after—" and he trailed off seemingly forgetting what he was saying, seconds before looking back at Ron in alarm, but Ron noticed little at the moment.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his sigh was shallow, deeply troubled. His legs shuffling under him left and right, wanting to get going but he didn't leave the circle he looped on.

". _..I'm sorry to put you through all this, you both must be tired out of your minds.._ "

Both Ron and Hismoine waved it off, telling him it was hardly anything, then started to drag him over to sit and enjoy opening his gifts.

Harry wasn't pleased to be having been delayed even more than it should have, and even worst not being able to share those few cheerful moments fully with Ron, after having the audacity to miss the funeral of his sister.

But he had to know, it was eating him. He NEEDED it in a way he couldn't contain, especially after how everyone is keen to keep the matter out of his knowledge.

_"This one From someone Called Mani H. With a nice seal on it!"_

" _Wicked! Is that a hat or what?_ "

" _Guys... listen,"_

The abrupt pause on their faces gave him a sharp jab, but he had to press on;

" _...I have to go and see Professor Mcgonagall, I need to clear things with her, you know._  
_Help yourselves with the rest 'till I get back, okay?_ "

Harry talked barely above a whisper, and not giving them time he was on his feet in a flash, running away from the exasperated protests of his friends. 

 

  
He ran straight to her office. Ignoring how his body felt so heavy.

His steps echoed louder than usual in the midst of the huge, empty, hallways.  
The only matching voice he heard was his own extensive heartbeats, no one else seemed to be around, thankfully.

As he reached, the gargoyle guarding the stairs was not yet prepared but groomed to the side, and the way behind it was wide open. He climbed the spiral steps, praying to see her present.

And she was.

Harry let out a huge sigh of relief, allowing his breath to get even after withholding it too long with anticipation.

" _Professor_!" He pants.

Turning to face him, she gave him a gentle smile upon seeing his alert- glowing face. But returned stern and weary, knowing why Harry had come.

" _Good morning Harry. Glad to see you on your feet. How are you feeling?_ "  
" _I'm alright, thanks-_ "

"- _Have a seat._ "

Harry sat down. Watching Mcgonagall taking her time adjusting the frame of one of the portraits. She circles his chair, fixing him with her sharp stare.

" _I suppose you want to know what had happened during the time you were absent in._ "

Harry nodded, his attention focused on her with the utmost, hanging from the edge of his seat readying to go off.

" _The thing is, a lot of people, of all kinds, came to question you, Harry. To question me even._  
_But I could not give away anything until I make sure you are ready to announce it, yourself. We all expecting your legendary speech._ " 

She smiled fondly at him. Harry flushed nodding to his knees, her indirect praise was unexpected just as this news about visitors and making grand speeches. He really didn't know with what or how to reply.

But she continued " _So it must come from you, it is only right._ "

Her smile dropped at sudden, and her voice returned strained if not more. She leaned forward to meet his eyes more clearly, she spoke softly.

" _However, for the matter '_ ** _at hand_** _'; I don't want anyone to go around spreading rumors, tales or any kind of false accusations about it._  
_That is why I'd like it kept quiet until everything is sorted out._ "

Harry nodded slowly in thought to her expectant pause.

She sniffed deeply, clearly against what she was doing, as she took out a scrap of paper and wrote in it.

" _Read this silently, please._ "  
She stretched out and opened her palm to him, in it, the tiny paper read " _Nursery Room –94_ ".

She then crumbled the paper, turning it into a fine string of fiery ash on a disposing tray. 

 

  
" _Now, go near where the Professor office is, and you'll find what you seek._ "

Harry got up thanking her breathlessly, fumbled with the doorknob then shot off. Racing alongside his excited thoughts— even faster than he did coming up here.

 

※※※

 

The dungeons were still deserted, like most of the place, but freezingly dimmer and ominous. Torches flared one by one as Harry came, tearing down the long stoned hall. With every intake he was swallowing the slightly moist air, specifically roaming down here.  
Spotting the Professor's dark office door, he grabbed its ringed handle, skidding into a halt, almost ramming to the wall beside it. Thinking hard about the note, he frantically looked around for the hidden room, his lungs burning in his chest.  
At the corner of his eye, a door far to the left had materialized, pulling itself out from between a long gap in the wall.  
Harry gulped forcefully, easing his breath and headed straight to it. As the frame of the door became clearer with each stride he took; a sudden awareness came to Harry.  
He wasn't sure what to expect to find there. Only when he was few feet closer that the ideas was occurring clearly:

What was he to say?  
In what manner should he speak?  
In what right he is given to explain coming to see him?  
Will Snape's reaction deter him from further communications?  
Can he voice anything conversational near him, to begin with?

The answers flew frantically around in Harry's mind, each sounded more ridiculous and unconvincing than the other. With each failed try, it managed to yarn a knot of aggravation, growing bigger the longer he thought about it.

Rigged on the spot in front of the thin door, he stood. By now, imaginative scenarios were playing in his mind with quite the accuracy to the past dealings with his professor. Yet, beside the confusion there was a crucial, pressing part of him that hoped- ruthlessly that is- to see Snape. Even if it was only glimpses of him.. Laying there moodily, awake and expecting company...  
...maybe not his, Harry's, company.  
He compromised, if that's the case, seeing him without comment will be very much enough.

Harry's fingers shivered to that thought but were instantly wrapped firmly on the door nob. The door noiselessly opened.  
Peering in, he saw nothing waiting to be viewed. In fact, the room was doused in darkness. He slid in, and as soon as he did he heard the door lock click behind him, closed.  
A tired light shone at once, right in the middle of the room. Enabling Harry to see in front of him; which were dozens of potions shelves lined almost against of the door, obscuring the full sight. Harry made his way around them to the center, and before he completely emerges from between them; a scene met his eyes, startled him violently he almost knocked the shelve to his side down.

His gasp echoed faintly, he didn't hear it leaving his mouth...  
Snape, was floating in mid-air, diving down on him..!

Jaw hanging open, Harry looked up at him, unblinking. Quickly realizing after few seconds nothing had happened; Snape was definitely not swooping down on him (to _attack_ , he feared for a moment). Seeing him more clearly; he looked to be frozen in a moment. His hair was the only thing moving, scattering upward in a slow fluttering movement.  
Harry took one step forward to further see; Snape was preserved in a long, floor-to-ceiling tube or a tank.. The base of it was woody, cradling the glass that was filled to its brim with an unknown to Harry liquid. Skin pale as the dead; it almost glowed to the contrary of the dim color surrounding him. His arms crossed and pressed on the glass near his face, eyes staring at the floor, empty but every often blinking in an obscene slow motion. 

 

  
Harry stood there aghast, unsure if he's understanding the full length of what lay before him..  
After the shock wore off, Harry took few more tentative steps toward the tank to provoke any reaction from him, there was none.  
Snape seemed awake but unaware of his presence. In hesitation, he tried placing his hand where Snape's arms are. Nothing defensive or magical of any sort he could see had happened. The surface was cool to his touch, waves of heat occasionally emanated. As he sensed a faint vibration in them, too. It was Snape's heart beats drumming through the glass veil.. but eyes were looking past him into nothingness..

Throat swelling; Harry was tempted to bound savagely on the glass, to wake his Professor from his trance. But before he finished his thought; a sweet burnt scent of perfume engulfed the place. So strong, Harry could tell it was coming from behind him. And indeed it was.

There, stood a person at the edge of the spotlight. Utterly silenced, what he could tell of their shadowed face was an expectant look.  
Harry would have jumped out of his skin if he wasn't in such a state of intense disbelief. Even weirder, he found their perfumed scent to be.. familiar..

" _Saeed* Harry Potter, what an honorable moment this is of a meeting_."

(*Mister)

The figure spoke, softly but his voice rung. He almost gave a musical tune to the end of his words, as if he was chanting.  
He stepped into the circle of light, and meeting him was a man with wide dark eyes, their pupils glittered yet showed no sign of emotion, around them, the eyelids were framed heavily by curvey decorative lines.  
Distracting from their solid gaze, hardly stretched into one; an ancient smile was formed, as a gentle parting of lips, brightening his grim features.  
His cheeks had dotted basic shapes of symbols, one is a young moon under his right eye. All these were gathered in a thin face, partially shaded by his long hair. Dark blue as a starry night, it glinted, down it was rolled in two braids, poured silky fine on his shoulders. Their ends floating above his waist magically.  
Behind them of a background was a knee lengthened shirt, thickly laced and a cloak resting on his arms, its sleeves also laced in a unique pattern. He seemed to radiate confidence and enthusiasm but in an odd, suave, preserved way.

 

  
Harry was not alarmed by the man's presence, even though he felt he should. But reasoned; he must be one of the few who helped, how else can he be in here..?  
The man moved swiftly, taking Harry's hand between his palms, a faint clutter of the beads around his wrist sounded while he shook them eagerly, his hands were pleasantly warm around Harry's frozen fingertips.

" _I am at the point of shuddering to the actuality of this chance that brought me with the legend of today. Even if it was grave and sorrowful_."

Harry watched the man's gaze meaningfully settle on Snape's current resting place. The urgency returned to Harry's Features. Something that caught the stranger's attention. Slightly tilting his head in acknowledgement, he presented what he presumed missing:

" _Allow me to erase the confusion: I am Qarqa'ah Al-hiyadi. I was called upon by Madam Pumfrey. Asking me to provide my expertise, which is relating to my great interest in non-bodily illnesses. The sort that centres the mind, the heart and the spiritual existence— inhabiting a body or was expelled from it. In length, I am not qualified to be a healer but I have gone deep into researching the tougher cases regarding this course. Which is why I was included in professor Severus Snape's treatment._ "  
He inclined his head in Harry's direction in a sort of salute.

Harry nodded uncertainly. ".. Pleasant _to meet you, sir._ "

Then in the next second, he realized what the man just has said. His heart started racing.  
Finally, someone who can tell him in details what had been happening here. The man had yet the chance to smile warmly at Harry before he plummeted out everything on his mind. Any trace of restraint left in him— forgotten.  
Harry simply had no more tolerance.

" _So.. So you treated him? Have you seen it all?_  
_How long it took?_  
_You know what's up with him? Other than the bite?_  
_Why wasn't I part of it?_  
_Why no one has risen me?!_  
_And why is he....Is he like this?!_ "

Almost breathless, his temper building up restricting his airway. The last word came out shivering as Harry struggled to remain on a plain description rather than 'having him stored away like some potion ingredient' or 'another jarred specimen to join the shelves, is he'.  
Clutching his fists tighter, oh it angered him beyond control.

The stranger seemed to fully see how Harry was irked and wasn't terribly surprised at his near shouting tone. He nodded his head to him with a content hum, acted in a complete understanding manner. He adjusted himself abstractedly to reply with a calmer voice;

" _I was not shared with the full extent to what caused the Professor's dilemma. Nor told about any position you be needing to fill in- helping. Only the exact time it happened and the cause I was informed of._  
_As for his present state: he is having his blood and internal organs slowly restored by a carefully combined variety of healing potions. Since his blood circulation is at fault, this mechanism does a similar principal to it._ "

Harry felt the air rushing out of him deeply; a sigh. As if hearing the news he has been obsessing to know had heaved a the bigger part of a bolder off his chest.

" _So, you've helped him! He'll be alright, won't he?_ "  
He asked breathlessly, careful not to smile.

" _Each healer has done their best. So, it only left for me to hope that I did as well. And, hope Saeed Snape will do his bid in recovery._ "

Qarqa'ah said, plugging his fingers together tightly, his expression stayed stubbornly neutral and observing.  
His attitude made doubt surge hottily back into Harry. He looked up again into Snape's vacant eyes and back at the stranger.. who kept eeriely watching him, providing no more explanations to unasked questions.  
A pause stretched between them uncomfortably.  
As Snape stared at them, Harry debated if he needed to know, and felt he had to. This man is not giving him any form of confirmation or dropping down his expectant gaze. He strangely thought that the man was expecting him to conclude aloud what is it with Snape.

" _...Is he awake, then?_ "  
Harry finally asked, feeling painfully dim before him for no apparent reason.

" _Yes._ "  
Qarqa'ah nodded slowly.  
" _Except; we can not tell if his mind is among us or not._ "  
He added, almost in a curious whisper, watching Harry carefully as he twisted his pointed beard.

Hearing it stung. Like something had pinched Harry's heart. It rapidly felt like the bolder was rolling, descending on his chest, pressuring his lungs, suffocating him.  
He stared bewildered at those wide, beguiling eyes of the stranger. Unable to decipher if any of this is good news..

He turned away, back to scrutinize the glass pointlessly, he can hear his own voice bawling out of frustration in him. Swelling with it, he felt it might burst out of him any second now.  
This was not the promised refine he needed to reward Snape with. Not the peace he desperately wanted to gift to someone who almost had never had any. This was not the decent way to praise this unsung hero..  
.. Harry was called a hero now... But he couldn't truly choose who to save.. The recent catastrophe was a proof.

" _Why_?"  
Harry managed to heave in an anguished whisper.  
" _Was it had to be this way?... You've.. bottled him!!_ "

Head bowed, shoulders trampling, he spoke through gritted teeth.  
The man that he can see reflected on the glass behind him made a sudden move as if intrigued. But his tone of voice differed that, it changed as he began to speak. Deeper, older and maybe consoling.. he could feel the air vibrating with it.

" _My son.. It was the soonest way to keep him in this life. Any more delay to find a better way could have cost us a lost—_ " " _—When will he be able to get back to normal?"_

Harry cut him off as if he wasn't listening, eyes shut tight as a way to block anything interfering with the reaching of Qarqa'ah's voice..

" _It depends.._  
_You must know; Your faith has been the greater deal in keeping him alive. Keeping you alive._  
_I can only imagine what you have gone through in this war, but I know you have a knowledge no one shared with you: Something beyond anyone's understanding— in an experience when you had nothing else but your faith to go with._  
_It's very right, very real. It has an effect only seen clearly in what people call 'miracles'._  
_You see; faith leaves a trace, in endless kinds of forms.. including in the form of a magical energy."_

He breathed deeply, his eyes closed and looked as he was recounting something in front of his mind's eye. His voice dropped in a dreamy tune;

_"I have encountered the most inspiring one while examining the Professor. Saeed Harry Potter, your faith is nothing less of powerful in influence.._ "

At the very far back of his mind, Harry was silently agreeing with the part of 'the only one knowing' that was mentioned. He could relate to some point; that it got him monetary curious to know how he can tell.  
But that thought was quickly overlapped by the fury he felt. It took a tight hold of him even though he tried to shake it off, but it savagely clung demanding to be satisfied.  
He found himself speaking again, still acting like Qarqa'ah was talking to himself.

"... _Madam Pomfrey was right.. it would have been merciful if we had just.._ "  
His voice quivered angrily, but suddenly recoiling; registering those bitter words that crumbled out his tight throat. He propped himself on the glass surface, unbelieving himself.  
The researcher edged only close enough to place his warm hand on Harry's shoulder, rubbing his thump in certain motion that made his whole back relax, after a shudder from him by the unexpected contact _— Harry hardly noticed it was there._

" _I am not allowed to question you on anything, my son. But I hope to tell you this might forgive my lack of support:_  
_It's not our right to decide, Harry. When there's a chance even the slimmest one to save someone and we did not rush to take it, only then we are to blame."_

Qarqa'ah's voice was magnificently soothing to hear, with his thump still caressing his shoulder, it made Harry easier.. he even suspected that he was charming him into comfort .. and his fury didn't want to be in any form of it.

But after a long pause, Harry was nodding his head vaguely, Qarqa'ah's words were barely sinking down, but began to dissolve the knot of jumbled tension in him.  
The man let go of his shoulder as gently as if it wasn't there to begin with. Enabling Harry to face him with a glazed expression.  
He thanked him in a flat voice he didn't intend.  
The man took to smile slowly. Again, Harry remarked how ancient his smile felt. He looked at Harry as if he was savouring every moment he stood before him.  
Then, in a respectful gesture; he brought his hands on Harry's head, parting his fringe and pecked him on the top of his head.  
Harry looked up into him, his eyes sparked alive from their previous dullness. The feeling rushing back to him, and it was complete embarrassment. How foolishly he must have acted, and in front of a stranger.

Flushing, he wanted to say something.. but the man shook his head, focusing those wide lined eyes on him— sincerely filled with pride;

" _Saeed Harry Potter, your intention made the difference in this Man's condition. And what will always do too many things as I trust and believe of you._  
_For now, I beg you to forgive me. I must take my leave. I ought to be on my way to the headmistress, as she requested to see me after I ensure your present._  
_Would you believe when I say, it was a wish coming true seeing you._

_Peace be upon you._ "

He inclined his head in slow grace. Then off he went, heading out. Harry glimpsed his pinky finger raised, pointing it to the door; a glamouring thick ring covered most of it, out of its middle jutted a small jagged wand. The door flung wide then closed behind him in a flash.

Harry was left in the dark again. The rich reassuring aroma vanished, taking with it the warmth of another being's company from the room.  
By him now were the soft hum of the odd mechanics attached to the tank. Like a moving carpet; the tank's own dull glow swam on the floor.  
He felt forebodingly inconsolable, yet relieved enough for conflicting reasons.

He slid on the floor his back to the glass. Then turned, looking up at the gentle fluid movement of Snape in there. He looked peaceful in a heart-wrenching way. He was looking at Harry. In one moment Harry's heart leapt thinking he was truly seeing him, in another, he was not so sure.  
It tortured him, the uncertainty, he couldn't stand to look anymore and rested his head on his knees, beginning to brood.  
Nothing made sense to him anymore.

Hismoine came in noiselessly, like before; just in time to interrupt him slashing on the sore ends of his emotions. Harry didn't look up when he edged nearer to him, calling his name in a whisper.  
Hismoine finally spotted him from between the shelves, sitting on the floor, staring at his feet.  
He drew closer, carefully sat beside Harry and was glad. He did acknowledged him by a side look, even with a severe stoney expression was on his face.

Smiling sadly at him, Hismoine put a hand around Harry and squeezed his shoulder. Harry nodded wordlessly.

 

  
" _You okay, Harry?"_  
After a while of a stiff silence, he broke it. All the while trying not to appear to have been watching him intently.

" _Yeah_.."  
Was what he said mechanically. Even though his mind was about to explode with a million thing to say, related to how he felt or not.  
Hismoine didn't press him for more as he might be expected of him. He merely noded looking around at the shelves.

".. _Do you remember that day when we got into the Department of Mysteries and in that Time Room?_ "  
Surprised by the random question, Harry frowned at him, remembering.

"... _I think so... What brought that up?"_  
Hismoine rummaged in his chest pocket and got out a small bottle, filled with golden sand. He was smiling cheekily.

" _I wasn't intending to even tell anyone but, I took a sample from the timely sand when the glass broke. I didn't mean to, of course!_  
_A lot of it I found embedded_   _in my cloak's inner pockets._  
_I had totally forgotten about it. Until Mister Qarqa'ah mentioned it after they finished treating Snape._ "

"... _Finished?_  
_... Were you there?_ "  
Harry asked, even more, surprised.

" _What?_  
_Where they treated him?_  
_Well, only at the final stage. They were pumping in all sort of potions in there._ "  
Hismoine patted the glass subtly.

"... _They told me that they needed one more person to witness the process and asked me if I would like to. I said of course! I didn't see much more, really_."  
Hismoine's voice couldn't have helped but to show a tiny bit of a disappointment of an intrigued learner.  
Turning the glittering bottles in his hand, he continued;

" _When everything was done; I talked to Mister Qarqa'ah._  
_He was really kind._  
_Bursting with pride at us, especially at you, Harry!"_  
He smiled appreciatively at him, peering into his half-hidden face.

" _Yeah, I've noticed that.._ "  
Commented Harry, lifting his face from his knees anxiously with a small smile.

" _So you met him! Good._  
_He was itching to see you personally before he gone to do some errands, I was worried you two won't run into each other properly..._ "  
Hismoine mumbled in an undertone, gazing around thoughtfully.  
He breathed loudly then leaned in to face Harry, his voice slightly louder than before;

" _You know, he mentioned this as a possible help to Snape_."  
Shaking the bottle, indicating it to Harry.

_"I heard him talking with professor_ _Mcgonagall_    _about the things he was studying. Things relating to cure by the Time Sand._ "  
Hismoine spoke breathlessly, his face shining, obviously, he was dying to tell Harry.  
Harry felt a flicker of hope erupt, dancing between Hismoine's fingers, now. His vague expression melted into awed expectation, and he found himself saying, rather raspy;

" _You mean to cure Snape by using these.. things_ —   _like the Time Turner?_ "  
" _Yes_!"  
Hismoine was on his knees, positively beaming at him, but spoke in a hushed tone; containing his excitement

" _Well, not per-se._  
_You see he told me, that he can warp the sand into the injured organ in a very precised controlled range. Running it back to a time it was completely healthy in._  
_Of course, he didn't test it on living human parts yet. And I can imagine many things to go wrong!_  
_But you know, its a chance.._ "

Hismoine finally breathed, settling on an anxious small smile.  
He looked back at Harry and blinked acutely. Harry was looking intently at the bottle in his hand. He suspiciously had that fleeting expression when he, Hismoine, revealed the Time Turner to Harry for the very first time. It was displaying quite clearly that longing to change those critical past details.  
Hismoine can obviously see he was doing some serious thinking.

". _..This is the Time Sand, only. It won't work like a Time-Turner without a tool that measures the needed sand to go back certain time period.._ "  
Hismoine talked in what he wished to be a casual tone of voice— not a warning or a deterring one.  
After a considerably long pause, Harry finally asked

" _When is he, uh.. the researcher, going to try it on, Snape?_ "  
" _Oh, well._ "  
Hismoine shrugged " _He didn't tell me. But I think he'll be back to his lab to do a bit more experimenting, I suppose._ "

Harry nodded in contentment. Hismoine cast around his gaze mindlessly once more, then looked at his watch.  
" _Harry_ " he spoke approachful, putting a hand on his shoulder " _we need to get going_."

Harry turned slightly frowning " _why_?"  
" _You can't stay here all day, you know._  
_Also, Ron needs us.. and everyone else is waiting for you.."_

Harry's face fell blank. He didn't feel remotely prepared nor anywhere  near enough enthusiasm to be facing the 'wizarding world'. Reporting, consoling or otherwise. He blissfully has forgotten that until now.  
Undoubtedly, he had to be near Ron. But at the same time, he needed to see Snape's treatment all the way. Which was much more of a urgent case. He felt strictly obliged to ensure his welfare, more strangely, he felt by repaying Snape, he will be repaying everyone who gave their entire lives to him and to this cause.. that and, he was the only remaining soul to have known his parents.. even with so much enmity.

Hismoine was on his feet, walked to the table sitting near the machine's different tubed holes that transform the potion poured into it to the cylinder-like-tank.  
He placed his bottle of Time Sand down, with a note attached to it. Then returned, stretching a hand to help Harry up.  
Harry smiled wearily and took it, standing up.

" _You go ahead Hismoine, I'll be with you in a minute.._ " He said, his eyes fixed on Snape again.

Hismoine looked at him then at Snape and nodded. Hurriedly he headed to the exit.  
Harry stood there, mesmerized, staring not at Snape, but the bottle of Time Sand. His heart was plummeting in his chest, from the wild insane ideas which crossed him.

How about a drop, maybe, a pinch rather.   
It won't count for much if he put it through the potion's slot. If nothing happened, he could try a couple more.. just to see..  
His mind was flourishing with victorious images, not at all concerned with the consequences the bottle might bring. Even though he knew it was foolish, the bright sparkly good side of it glittered in his mind just as much as the dots of Time Sand did before him.  
He edged closer steadily, as if he was beckoned by the bottle to pick it up.  
It was tiny, a piece of parchment laid underneath it. Harry could see Hismoine's handwriting; rewriting backwards and forward a certain word the bottle was standing on.

" _Dear Mister Qarqa'ah:_

_This is the sample of Time Sand I told you I've acquired. I hope it will be of help in your research._

_Sincerely_ ,  
_H. G._ "

 

  
Harry stood there, still humoring his fancies, calculating... if every grain of sand there was a second to go back to, he concluded a fair sprinkle will count as an hour or so.  
His hand mildly groped the surface of the table to Hismoine's parchment. There was a P.S. he couldn't read. His fingers merely touched the parchment to slide it away from under the bottle— to see it fly, weightless, topple over, passing the edge of the table and break with a tinkle on the tube's opening— passing its inners to the mechanical pipes.

He did not need to see the effect before he hears it...  
He turned his stiff head, everything seemed to slow down except his painfully fast beating heart, it might not have been beating at all and that's why he couldn't breathe..

The change in the tank was fast and exuberant. Rapidly it was bubbling, foaming, gurgling!  
He could see only parts of Snape as he writhed and thrashed in there!

Without even knowing what he was doing, his wand was in his hand, above his head, **swoosh!** And the next he knew: A humongous explosion, shattering glass flying in every direction! Merged with the potion that came down on him, gushing vigorously, swiping him off his feet!

Coughing unearthly tastes that he swallowed, Harry felt the cinch of pulsing pain immediately sew up on his face and arms that he used to shield himself.

On his face he lay, washed out, dripping, numb, stricken, shivering to the tips of his hair.  
Blindly, he sought Snape.  
... only to see his figure sprawled in a misshapen mass, in the middle of the tank. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, finally after a literal year has passed I have continued this path.  
> It was always in the back of my mind and have worked on it periodically, never seriously enough.
> 
> Throughout that time I was developing my art style, and you see, a lot of the scenes were redrawn on or just a mixture of old and new (months separating one from the other) Except the last four— just done them recently.
> 
>  
> 
> And if you like to know more about Qarqa'ah: (pronounced Kar-Ka-Ah) He comes from a private novel of mine and since he is a wizard (Not under the laws of HP world or connected to it) I loved to include him -only for one chapter.  
> He originally works as a nurse and some sort of a students' consoler. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it -so far- and would very much like to hear from you.  
> (Specially that, I have never shared or been included in a fandom before— so you could say I'm like a toddler newbie!).  
> Have a nice day~


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